You Did Not Desert Me, My Brothers In Arms
by Pippi1.0
Summary: LeBeau always knew this question was coming. He's been dreading it for years. But he has to answer, even though it kills him. "What did you do in the war, Papa?" What would've happened if LeBeau had really left Stalag 13 in the episode "Cuisine a la Stalag 13"? Post-war. Character death.


Greetings again, friends! Thank you all for the reviews for my last story about Newkirk after the war. As my first story, it meant a lot to me!

This is a post-war snippet based off of the episode in season 6 "Cuisine A La Stalag 13" where LeBeau almost leaves the Stalag to join the French resistance. It explores what _might_ have happened if he had, indeed, left for good.

I sort of…ignored Baker in this story. I know, I know, he is totally part of the show, and not only that, but he is part of the episode off of which this story is based, but I still just think of the Stalag 13 gang as Hogan, Newkirk, LeBeau, Carter, and Kinch, with a little Olsen on the side. Forgive the blatant disregard of characters.

I don't own anything or anybody..."and when I say anybody that includes everybody!"

* * *

"What did you do in the war, Papa?"

Louis LeBeau looked down at his son who sat next to him. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a fond smile. "I made Crêpes Suzette."

Claude LeBeau cocked his head to the side, not buying it. "Mama said you got captured by the Germans."

LeBeau took in a deep breath. Not a day went by that he did not think back on his time at Stalag 13. Even now, 15 years almost to the day since he caught his first glimpse of those large prison gates, he still remembered it like it was only yesterday. Memories of Stalag 13 were bittersweet, and terribly vivid.

" _Oui_ , Claude, I was captured by the Germans. I was a prisoner of war for four years."

"What was it like in the prison?"

LeBeau looked down at his hands. His wife Paulette knew many of the stories of Stalag 13, although some tales were never meant for ears outside of the Stalag 13 brotherhood, but she knew how difficult it was for him to talk about it, so it was seldom spoken of. Louis had not told the stories to another living soul besides her, but now, as he looked down at his son who would soon turn 11 years old, he knew that it was time.

"It was not too bad for me. Many other prison camps had it much worse."

"Were the Germans mean to you?"

"Sometimes. But our prison camp was…special." Most of the Stalag 13 facts were still classified top secret, and likely would remain so for many more years to come, so Louis was careful to share his experiences without telling details. Paulette definitely knew more than she ought to about the Stalag 13 operation, but LeBeau had never been a stickler for the rules, and honestly, he had needed a confidant during those years following the war. Paulette was a godsend those early years, when nearly every night he was tortured with nightmares, still battling the demons of his past.

"Our camp Kommandant—that's what they call the person in charge—was not very smart. Our leader, Colonel…Colonel Hogan…" Louis found in increasingly difficult to push the name past his lips these days. "…was a very brilliant man. He could trick the Kommandant into doing whatever he wanted him to do. And the plans that he thought of were magnificent. He was one of the best men I've ever known."

"Was he your friend?"

LeBeau's eyes crinkled as he smiled endearingly at his son. "Colonel Hogan was an officer, and I was an enlisted man. We weren't exactly _friends_ …" He paused, trying to put it into words. "…but I would've done anything for the Colonel. I would've died for him. And he would've done the same for me."

"Did you have any friends there?"

Claude, bless him, had no idea the pain he cause his father with that question. " _Oui_ , Claude. I did." LeBeau allowed himself a moment to gather his emotions before continuing. "There was…there was an American named Andrew Carter. He was very good at making bombs, but did not always have a lot of common sense. He could put on a costume and make you believe he was just about anybody. Even Hitler himself!" Claude grinned.

"Then there was James Kinchloe, another American. He was a very good man. A deep thinker, like the Colonel, and a very good friend. Kinch—that's what we called him—was excellent with electronics. He could put a radio together in ten minutes if he had the right parts."

Here, LeBeau stopped again. He had saved Newkirk for last. He and the British corporal had had a special bond; they had arrived a year before the others, and had more in common than they had with the Americans, leading to a different aspect of friendship. Louis was not at all certain that he would be able to tell his son about his British comrade without losing his composure. But Claude was still staring at him with those big doe eyes, and LeBeau somehow found the strength to speak.

"My best friend was a British man named Peter Newkirk." LeBeau felt pressure behind his eyes and tried to blink it away. He cleared his throat and continued. "He arrived at the camp only a short time before I did. He was a bit of a prankster, always playing jokes on the other prisoners, and even the guards. Why, he could steal anything right out of someone's pocket and they would never feel a thing, but he'd usually give it back. He once stole a medal right off the neck of a German officer like it was the simplest thing in the world!"* Claude's eyes sparkled with awe and delight. "He often pretended to be a coward, I think because he had always been told he was one, but underneath, he was a very brave man. He was probably the best friend I'll ever have."

"Do you miss him?"

"I miss all of them. Every day."

"Did you ever try to escape?"

LeBeau smiled. "Yes, I did escape, and went to fight with General de Gaulle."

"Did you help liberate France?"

" _Oui_. I was there."

"What about your friends at the camp? Did they escape, too?"

LeBeau's smile fell off his face. "They stayed behind."

"Were there any other Frenchmen in the camp?"

" _Oui_ , a few."

"Then why was the British man your best friend? Why not a Frenchman?"

LeBeau frowned. "You must understand something, Claude. We were risking our lives to protect each other…we were watching out for each other, all of the time. We were fighting for the same cause. Eventually, the Colonel, Andrew, James, and Peter became like brothers to me."

Claude thought for a moment. "Can I meet them someday, Papa?"

This time, when the tears came to LeBeau's eyes there was no stopping them. He shook his head. "No, Claude."

LeBeau was unable to say more. He did not tell his son how he had looked for his friends after the end of the war, ready to celebrate and make good on his promise to show them around Paris.

He did not tell his son that he found out that after he had escaped, Stalag 13's perfect record was broken and Klink was sent to the Russian Front where he was reported missing in action two weeks later.

He did not tell his son that a new camp Kommandant took his place and cut food rations to a quarter what they had been previously.

He did not tell his son that under this new Kommandant, prisoners were publicly beaten in camp for the slightest infractions.

He did not tell his son that Sergeant Schultz had objected to the mistreatment of the prisoners and had faced a firing squad.

He did not tell his son that a typhoid epidemic had wiped out half of the prisoners in the Stalag, including Kinch and Carter.

He did not tell his son that Colonel Hogan was found in possession of "spy materials" and was shot as a spy without a trial.

He did not tell his son that an "unknown prisoner" had made "hostile movements" toward the guards in the moments preceding Hogan's execution, and he and Hogan were shot side by side.

He did not tell his son that he knew exactly who that "unknown prisoner" was.

He did not tell his son that none of his friends, his brothers, ever got to see the Sherman tanks roll through the gates.

He did not tell his son that it was all his fault.

Through these fields of destruction

Baptisms of fire

I've witnessed your suffering

As the battle rages high

And though they did hurt me so bad

In the fear and alarm

You did not desert me

My brothers in arms.

"Brothers in arms", Dire Straits

*Color the Luftwaffe Red

I know, I know, it's a bit of a downer, but I don't really know what other outcome there could be if he had left and I always felt like the episode didn't address it enough. I suppose Hogan might've called for a mass escape, but I honestly think they'd more likely have tried to carry on until the end of the war. I think the important thing to remember, however, is that it did NOT happen this way, because LeBeau did the difficult, honorable thing, and chose to remain a POW with the rest of the guys. And even though we never got to see it, they all totally marched out of the front gates together at the liberation.


End file.
